Tempus Fugit: Rising Star
by crazy-ranger
Summary: Final Chapter up!
1. Default Chapter

I've changed the format of this and reposted it... this way I'll please most people. Sorry, for the wait- isn't it weird how you get inspiration for everything but the part of the story you need to tell next...  
  
Crazy ranger-  
  
"They drag behind you, like chains of your own making. They can have a terrible power over you Marcus." – Delenn, 'Ceremonies of light and dark,'  
  
Day 1  
  
We can confirm now that President Clarke took his own life rather at 2-53 am E.S.T. rather than face trial for his actions. The body has been left in place for examination and documentation by the justice department.  
  
After the battle, Sheridan surrendered to Earth force authorities who will now decide whether or not charges will be pressed for his actions taken during and proceeding the battle. Despite Sheridan's current high standing in public opinion polls, his decisions to act against his fellow officers must be explained and justified.  
  
In an impromptu press conference this morning, acting President Susanna Luchenko of the Russian consortium urged the public to remain calm:  
  
Flashbulbs went off repeatedly, reporters yelling. It took a great effort for the new president not to lapse into her native tongue. She called for the press to listen, and at a steady pace, in English, Luchenko spoke. Her eyes flitted between varying reporters, making eye contact for several seconds, only occasionally did her eyes pass over her prompt sheet.  
  
"We realise that many of you want revenge, against those who caused such great pain and suffering. We ask that you listen to the better angels of your nature. Give the courts and the legal system time to locate and prosecute those responsible. Only a sane and careful study of the facts will allow us to separate those who were willing partners in president Clarke's reign of terror, from those who co-operated only in fear of their lives."  
  
The hub of noise resumed as Luchenko finished and the reporters began to feverently ask questions again.  
  
Our thoughts especially go out to Sheridan's second in command, Susan Ivanova. Critically injured when Clarkes forces attempted to ambush the multi-planetary fleet. The prayers of a grateful earth go out to her.  
  
***************** Stephen gripped the arm rests of the command chair. They still weren't past the jammers. Marcus would have reached the station by now. If they didn't make contact soon, they may as well never. Lennier had instructed the crew to send the white star above recommended speed, but at this rate they'd never make it- not in time.  
  
Stephen willed in his head, over and over. At first he mumbled to himself, but eventually he spat out the words in frustration.  
  
"Faster, we've got to go faster." He couldn't stand being unable to do anything, to know that his friend was going to certain death and he could do nothing.  
  
*****************  
  
The two med-techs saw the destruction Marcus had left in his wake. The security guard unconscious on the floor, the equipment everywhere. They rounded the corner with caution, but they were not prepared for the sight that greeted them.  
  
Marcus was slumped at Ivanovas side, the alien healing device still next to him. They didn't even see the third figure on the floor at first. The female Tech recognised the device, and was so shocked she dropped her tray. Her and her colleague had come to pronounce the commander.  
  
"Jesus." She shrieked while her colleague moved forward quickly. He gaped for a moment on scanning Ivanova, then somehow brought himself to speak.  
  
"Oh my god, she's healed, completely."  
  
Snapping out of shock, the female tech stepped forward and checked over the man slumped at the Commanders bedside. He was barely breathing, and his pulse was erratic and weak. His skin was a deathly pale and his lips were tainted blue from oxygen deprivation. "How's he"?  
  
"He's in trouble," the tech began grabbing an Oxygen mask. "He needs to go to the Iso-lab stat."  
  
As the male tech went to help his colleague he glanced down and found himself looking at another body lying face down on the floor.  
  
"We got another one." He yelled kneeling beside the figure. He ran the scanner quickly. "No pulse." He murmured, then rolled the figure over. " What the-"  
  
The other tech knelt beside him and looked at the body. It wasn't possible. She glanced up at the bed and the commander, then again at the figure on the floor. The two med-techs looked at each other.  
  
"What the hell is going on?" She yelled. The both of them had not the authority or the expertise to care for three (Not including the unconscious security guard) persons, let alone deal with two patients who appeared to be the same person. The tech tapped the back of her hand and shouted into her link.  
  
"Team four to Med-lab three. Get your asses over here, we have three people down!" 


	2. Day 1

---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------  
  
Franklin was met at customs by one of the med-techs. He bypassed the formality of the guards and headed straight for med-lab.  
  
"How's she doing?"  
  
"Out of critical," The tech began to explain hurriedly. "The treatment seems to have worked."  
Stephen barely dared to ask the next question, fearing greatly that he wouldn't like the answer. Marcus was dead, there was no hope.  
  
"What about Marcus?"  
  
"We found him in extreme respiratory distress with an irregular rhythm. He was really weak."  
  
Franklin paused in mid step, then turned to the tech He blinked, then began to speak more slowly.  
  
"Wait a minute. He was alive?" "He's on Respiratory support in the Iso –lab now."  
  
Stephen let out a huge sigh of relief. The machine hadn't killed him.  
  
"I don't know if he'll stay with us. The machine seems to have caused cellular breakdown." The tech continued as they started walking again, the urgency of the situation coming back. "He's stabilised for the moment."  
  
He was alive. And Stephen was determined that he'd stay that way. His pace picked up to a slow jog. "And Commander Ivanova, is she stable?"  
  
The tech followed him at pace into the transport tube. "Depends on your definition."  
  
*********** "WHY DON'T YOU JUST TELL ME WHATS GOING ON?" Ivanova was screaming at the tech stood in her way. She had tried asking, ordering, and yelling abuse to let her past. But the tech was unmovable. They probably didn't want her to see Marcus body in-case she lost it again.  
  
"Commander, please calm down."  
  
Before the tech could even finish his sentence Susan was yelling again.  
  
"CALM DOWN! WITH WHAT I'VE JUST SEEN! WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING?"  
  
She went to try and get past the tech again but he grabbed her by the arm. Ivanova despite her shaken state tried to surge past but the tech pulled her back again.  
  
Fortunately before there was a true physical altercation, Franklin entered and grabbed her by the other arm. "Whow! It's o.k. Susan, calm down." He spoke, pulling her to face him. Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of the Alien healing device, which lay smashed, with perhaps intension or accident on the med-lab floor.  
  
"NOT UNTIL SOMEONE TELLS ME WHAT THE HELL'S HAPPENING!" She screamed in his face, her relief on seeing him soon causing her rage to dissipate to quiet anxiety.  
  
Stephen looked her in the eye. She was frantic for answers. "I don't know." He said softly, loosing his grip on her arm. "Just sit tight, and let me find out."  
  
Stephen went to step forward but Susan grabbed him by the arm again.  
  
"They wont let me past." She murmured, almost unable to bring herself to ask the next question.  
  
"Is Marcus dead?"  
  
"No," Stephen shook his head and patted her arm. "He's not."  
  
Reluctantly, Ivanova sat down as Franklin walked away in the direction of the Iso-lab with the med tech he had entered with.  
  
When he was sure he was out of ear shot, Stephen turned to the tech. "I don't understand." He began, glancing back at Ivanova for a moment. "Her neck was broken and her internal organs were screwed, now she's kicking and screaming and Marcus is still alive. How?"  
  
The Tech sighed, not particularly wishing to explain the next part of the puzzle to Dr Franklin.  
  
"There was another donor." She gestured for Franklin to follow her to the small side room off the side of the Iso lab. Inside a body lay under a sheet.  
  
"Another donor?" He began as the tech threw back the sheet. The face under the sheet completely threw him. "What the-"His speech trailed off looking at the face of the corpse. This made no sense.  
  
"According to CNC there was an temporal occurrence in Sector 14 five hours ago." The tech offered as an explanation. That seemed to be as much as anyone would ever be able to explain. Stephen gazed at the body, wondering who she had become, and how extreme her motives were.  
  
"Does Ivanova know?" He finally asked, throwing the sheet back over, as if to somehow erase his memory of having seen it.  
  
"No." the tech simply replied, turning around to grab something from the shelving behind her.  
  
"Good." Franklin nodded folding his arms and glancing back in Ivanovas direction. "I think she's shaken enough."  
  
The tech held out a piece of paper to Franklin. It was aged and screwed up, through many years of being handled, carelessly dropped in rage and snatched up again in reconsideration. "We found this in her pocket."  
  
He studied it for a moment, recognising the handwriting. "A note from Marcus to her."  
  
The tech then held forward another piece of paper, folded into quarters neatly. Franklin took it and unfolded it.  
  
"We found this in his pocket. Apart from the message on the back and the age of the paper they're identical."  
  
Stephens eyes darted between the papers for a few moment, not simply studying the identical lettering, but glancing curiously at the actual message.  
  
'Beautiful Earth, forgive me  
For pointlessly treading you,  
Beautiful Sun, you wasted,  
Your rays on an empty house.  
Life! What a price to pay  
For being born. Now let me go up:  
To the peaks, to the highest tips,  
To see the sunrise, to tire my eyes  
Gazing out at the promised land.  
Then let a snowdrift cover me,  
Let them write, 'No one. R.I.P.'  
And after that, who gives a damn?  
  
Ibsen- Peer Gynt'  
  
He turned over the older paper to find a second message, this in Ivanovas' handwriting.  
  
'I do.  
  
"In my faith, in my hope, in my love."'  
  
Finally he handed them back to the tech, his eyes wide with extreme revelation. "I think we should hold out on telling her for a while."  
  
"We thought as much." She commented replacing the paper on the shelf behind her. "The commander regained consciousness when we where shocking Cole," The tech began to explain, as they moved from the side room to the Iso-lab. "She was so hysterical we had to sedate her. She slept for the next six hours."  
  
Stephen barely heard the tech when he saw Marcus. He was so pale his skin was almost grey, the colour from his cheeks and lips had almost faded from his face, which was shockingly juxtaposed with his raven hair. He seemed thinner, emaciated, laid waste by the machine.  
  
"What are his chances?" He asked as the tech handed him a chart gravely.  
  
"A lot of internal organ failure, very little neural activity." She began. "But his respiratory system seems to have picked up. He's breathing on his own now."  
  
"Good." He mumbled reading the chart. He glanced up at the tech who was awaiting instructions. "I'll take it from here." He said as he put the chart down before adding on a little praise. "Good job."  
  
"Thank you doctor," She nodded and left Franklin standing over the comatose patient.  
  
He hesitated for a moment, looking down at Marcus. Nothing more could be done for him at this stage, Stephen concluded that he'd probably do more good with Ivanova than Marcus right now.  
  
He tried to smile as he approached her, but the haunted look she wore had an incredible power to dis-arm. Stephen sat on the bed beside her, and touched her on the arm. "How do you feel?"  
  
Ivanova sighed and leaned forward, considering her answer." I'm Okay I guess. I just wasn't expecting to wake up." She paused for a moment, kneading her fingers together, contemplating the events of the past few hours, going from being nearly dead herself, to waking up finding Marcus fighting to stay alive. The shock factor hadn't quite worn off yet.  
  
"I'd looked my own death in the face and I was ready," She began, her speech trailing off as she tried to find a way to string her words together. "I accepted it." She could feel the tears coming again, as much as she didn't want to. She glanced over in the direction of the iso-lab, "But I guess he didn't." For a moment she gave in, and let herself cry silently, while Franklins arm slipped around her shoulders. She sighed dryly and composed herself. "How'd he find out about that machine?"  
  
"Hacked his way into the system." Stephen murmered in reply. "Those log entries were double encoded, clever son-of-a-bitch."  
  
Susan, smiled slightly and sighed a small laugh. "He got caught doing that a few months ago, I said if he did it again I'd file charges." She inhaled deeply, her moving fingers settled almost into a position of prayer. She turned her head and looked Stephen in the eye. "Will he die?"  
  
"It's too early to say." He began. "The machine seems to have taken energy right at the cellular level. He has slight internal bleeding which I'm reluctant to do anything about because if operate I don't know that he'll heal. He has poor function in his liver, kidneys, and little neural activity." It all seemed so cold, so scientific. A person fighting for their life shouldn't be defined by a list of ailments. "He could go either way." Franklin concluded.  
  
"God..." Ivanova trailed off with little else in the way of words coming to her.  
  
"I'm sorry Susan." Stephen apologised, rethinking that it was perhaps a little pre-mature.  
  
They sat in silence for a moment, hearing only the sound of monitors beeping in the iso-lab.  
  
"What made him do it?" She finally said, contemplating just what Marcus had done for her. "How can you just-"She stammered attempting to comprehend, "- just override instinct like that?"  
  
Franklin knew the answer, but he was unsure of his place in saying the reasoning behind Marcus actions. "Well, it's erm..." He tried to find the best possible way of putting it to her. "...look. Marcus has" He trailed off again, "... you must know-"  
  
"What?" She asked interrupting his unclear speech. "That he's in love with me."  
  
"Yeah," He replied, relieved that he didn't have to tell her. "That."  
  
"Yeah. I knew it." She confirmed sadly. "I just didn't wanna admit it." The reality of the situation was still sinking in, but none the less was extremely distressing. "Oh God, I never thought he'd do anything like this."  
  
Only now could she begin to appreciate the things he had done for her, when it was in all probability much too late to return the favour. "It's not like he asked for much," She began to cry again. "He just- just wanted to be around me. Even when I was dying he sat next to me, and held my hand." Susan turned to Stephen again, angrily confessing her guilt in a fit of remorse. "D'you know that's the only time I ever even touched him? The only time he ever got near me?"  
  
Franklin tried to think of something comforting to say, something to make sense of the chaos. But words failed him, he decided that it was probably best to let her vent her feelings.  
  
"I never let him get close," Ivanova continued, more to herself than Stephen. "I was afraid to let him get close!" She was incredulous and her own stupidity and lack of feeling toward Marcus. She tried to justify herself. " I've been through so many bad relationships I didn't want anybody close, even though I knew he wouldn't- couldn't hurt me, or leave me." Susan paused and gazed floor ward, her chin resting hard on her clenched fist.  
  
She spoke more slowly, thoughtfully. "I kept him at arms length and he still loved me- he gave that of himself, so freely and willingly." She turned to Stephen again, her voice tired and regretful. "And I couldn't find it in myself to give him anything, to even acknowledge how he felt. All I ever did was- yell at him and antagonise him."  
  
Franklin tapped the side of the bed, formulating an answer for her. " Maybe that's part of what he likes about you," he smiled somehow gaining a brief smirk from her. "And people don't give of themselves because they expect to gain something from others -at least they shouldn't," He gestured in the direction of the iso-lab. "And certainly didn't in his case."  
  
Susan thought for a moment in silence, she wondered when Stephen had suddenly become a wizened being. As for Marcus, he gave of himself every day of his life, to the rangers, to the people in down-below, to her. Maybe it was time to begin returning those favours.  
  
"I'd like to see him."  
  
Stephen thought for a moment then nodded his head. Perhaps this would somehow be good therapy for her. He led her wordlessly to the isolab.  
  
For a moment the sight of Marcus was a shock, expressed only through a sharp inhalation on Susan's part. In truth her heart leapt into her throat and was suppressed by being swallowed back down. She picked up his left hand, the circulation was poor, his fingertips icy. "Will he wake up?" She asked, her hand curving around his.  
  
"Not at the moment, no."  
  
"Good," She gripped his hand tightly, angry at his contempt for his own life. "Because right now I only have obscene words for him."  
  
She sat down on a gap on the bed beside him Marcus, willing silently in his direction. Stephen stood a pace behind her, now finding himself redundant and awkward. Eventually he decided to excuse himself, "I'll be back."  
  
"Stephen," Ivanova called as he went to go through the door. He paused and turned, she looked to him. "What you said, about giving of yourself, certainly in applying those principles to love." She glanced back at Marcus, possibly dying quietly, a person unknown to the universe. "All love is unrequited Stephen. All of it."  
  
*****************  
  
Susan had taken to pacing about six hours ago. She began to understand how expectant fathers must feel waiting for news. She was exhausted and physically and mentally, but couldn't bring herself to leave his side. No matter what happened she wanted to be here, if he woke up - to yell at him for being such a foolish bastard, and if he died – just to be sure he didn't die alone. Whether she liked it or not, Ivanova owed Marcus her life.  
  
She hadn't left med-lab to eat, shower or sleep. She'd only changed back into her clothes after someone brought them to her. Med-lab was beginning to drive her nuts.  
  
She paced up, then down, then up again. Patience was not one of her strongest points. But Marcus did nothing but lie there, he just lay there and breathed. Not breathing with voice, where sighs could be heard. Breathing with only the moving of air.  
  
Up, 1 step, 2 step, 3 step. Down, 1 step, 2 step, 3 step. Inhale, 1 step, exhale, 2 step, Inhale, 3 step...  
  
She froze realising the tempo she had been counting to. She looked at Marcus again, shockingly pale, devoid of almost all signs of life. Susan walked back across the iso-lab and sat down hard beside him, banging her left elbow on the arm of the chair. She felt the pins and needles run up her arm as she put her right hand to her elbow. She was so angry and frustrated at this she was trying to pass through objects. God she was determined to give Marcus a piece of her mind now the shock of the past twelve hours was almost passed.  
  
After a moment, Ivanova leaned forward towards Marcus, her mouth inches from his ear. She was about to unleash some of the anger of the situation in his direction when she stopped, reconsidered she was most likely wasting her breath and whispered to him harshly.  
  
"Wake up you stupid son-of-a-bitch."  
  
He didn't respond. He was dead to the world for want of a better phrase. Susan sighed and leaned back. She couldn't take this. How the hell was she supposed to handle not knowing, just waiting for something good or bad to happen? She rose, kicked the chair backwards, marched over to the wall, lent against it and screamed.  
  
"I know," Stephen murmured standing at the door of the iso-lab. "The waiting's the worst."  
  
Ivanova put her hands to her temples and braced her head between them. "I can't stand this." She whispered loudly.  
  
"Look," Stephen began as he approached her. "You're tired, hungry and not in your best frame of mind given recent events. Go home, get some sleep. The minute anything happens I'll call you."  
  
Susan looked back over at Marcus, she didn't want to abandon him because med-lab was getting to her. He'd endured worse for her.  
  
"Susan," I hate to say it, but there's nothing more you can do here."  
  
She sighed, hating that he was right. Stephen was always right. But she couldn't go. She couldn't pull herself away this second.  
  
"No," she shook her head. "I can't go."  
  
Stephen raised his eyebrows as if to say 'suit yourself', then returned to his office where he kept an eye on the two of them from a safe distance.  
  
Ivanova picked up the chair she had kicked over and sat down again. She leaned back in the chair and thought particularly hard in Marcus' direction.  
  
*I hate you.* She thought, grinding her teeth together in annoyance. * I hate you for doing this to yourself.*  
  
The chair she was sitting on was much too hard to be comfortable on in anyway she sat. She couldn't think why, when the station had gone online it wasn't supplied with comfortable furniture? The chair backs were either too high, or too low or not wide enough. And another thing, whenever anyone walked into one of these chairs they always made a terrific clang so everybody knew they had done so-  
  
She stopped mid-rant in realisation. She was raving to herself about chairs. Oh dear, it had come to this. Susan glared at her chair, then went back to glaring at Marcus. Him and this chair had quite a lot in common. They were both uncomfortable, annoying, loud, used everyday and taken for granted..., if Marcus had been a piece of furniture he would have been this chair.  
  
Was she really this tired? Was she so far gone she was using chairs as a simile/metaphor regarding Marcus? Marcus was nothing like this chair. For one thing he had more hair...  
  
Stephen was right. She really had to get some sleep. Susan rose from the seat she had been mentally rambling about, then paused. She looked back at Marcus, loosing her resentment gradually as she watched him sleep. In a strange way he looked quite cute, probably something to do with him being quiet for once in his life. It was probably the only time he was quiet. "I don't usually speak unless I have something to say." She should have guessed that'd be most of the time. One thing did irritate her though. His nose- his nostrils were huge. She was raving again- she had to sleep before she lost it completely. *A nose is a nose is a nose. * That was so terrible Marcus should have said it.  
  
"I'll be back," She murmured on deaf ears, deciding to get out of there before her wit was reduced to ferrets, buckets and endless games of I spy. 


	3. Day 2

Day 2  
  
0300  
  
Susan lay in bed, now unable to sleep through thoughts of another kind. She was covered in scars. White lines all over her. She'd only noticed them when she'd showered. She began to wonder how extensive the damage had been to her, and what measures the Minbari had taken in trying to save her.  
  
She knew her neck had been broken, and there was a great deal of internal damage. All the rest had been kept from her when she was on the Minbari ship. When she asked questions, Marcus just asked her to sleep. She supposed he'd been trying to keep her from dwelling on what she was dying of particularly. He was dwelling on her enough for the both of them. And look where that had gotten him- Comatose in med lab.  
  
Sighing and opening her eyes, Susan looked skyward- despite the fact she was in space on a giant rotational axis- it was the only direction she could look to, to find her maker. God, she thought. Just me again. Look, about the Atheist moron in med-lab. I'm sure if you two were on speaking terms he'd of had a conversation to you about me- but as things are- I'm talking to you about him. Is there anyway you could have him wake up long enough for me to slap some sense into him? It wouldn't have to be for long, just a thought Lord. Another thing God, why am I alive?  
  
No answer came. To be honest Ivanova wasn't too surprised. God was probably busy trying to work out why he bothered creating man in the first place. Too busy to have a deep spiritual chat with a wayward Jew. Especially one who suffered from the delusion he had an English accent.  
  
Susan thought back to last week, when her life was a lot more simple in terms of relationships.  
  
*************  
  
He was singing again. It had started quietly and only to himself, but now she could her it from the other side of the bridge of the white star. Ivanova grit her teeth, he was really irritating her right now. He's only attention seeking, she told herself. He wants you to get mad at him. He enjoys it. It was no good. Either he shut up or she killed him.  
  
"Sixty-four bottles of beer on the wall, sixty-four bottles of beer-"  
  
"Marcus!" Susan yelled clutching the arms of her chair and swivelling around to face him.  
  
He looked up with a face that very well portrayed a fake picture of innocence. "Yeh-hes?" He intoned a little too pleased with himself. Susan responded with a glare that had sent dome techs fleeing in terror. Deciding to give her a break Marcus stopped. Maybe now was a bad time to wind her up, she was tired and probably running out of patience. "Look," He began, dropping the childish routine. "Why don't you go and some sleep?"  
  
"Why don't you shut up?" Susan snapped at him. She realised very quickly that he was attempting to be serious at that moment. She'd hurt his feelings- and as she'd be stuck with him on the same ship for god-knows-how- long, or until Earth was liberated, she apologised quickly. "I'm sorry, I'm a little edgy."  
  
"That's alright-"He dismissed his dislike of being told to shut up, gathering that he probably deserved it. "Getting bored anyway." They both paused. Ivanova didn't turn the command chair back towards the front of the bridge, she wanted to say something else, but the words never came. Unable to cope with silence, Marcus started again, "Wanna play I-spy?"  
  
"No" She intoned firmly.  
  
"Ten green bottles?" he continued. "Pin the tail on the Drazi?"  
  
Susan laughed. It wasn't that funny, but she was so tired she'd laugh at anything. Besides, it'd appease Marcus for a matter of seconds  
  
"Ha!" He pointed victoriously. "Made you smirk."  
  
She shook her head, with the corners of her mouth still upturned. She had to change the subject before he started again. "How long before we get there?"  
  
He glanced downwards at the console he was standing at. "Six hours." Marcus reported before moving back over to the second officers chair. "You want to talk comics? Marvel, D.C- your choice?" Susan glared at him again as he sat down. "Sorry, a little more sophistication for you. Playwrights?"  
  
Susan sighed, aware she was about to become an unwitting participant in one of his games again. But through sheer boredom, she played along. "Like who?"  
  
"Wilde, Chekov, Euripides, Marlowe" He listed, deliberately not saying Sheridan. "..., Ibsen?"  
  
Her eyes widened. "Peer Gynt?"  
  
Marcus smiled and confirmed his familiarity with the play. "Onions, trolls and salvation."  
  
"You like it?" She asked widening her eyes- it was all part of the game.  
  
"Of course." Marcus replied. Ivanova shook her head dismissively. "What?" He asked, curious to know what was wrong with the play in question.  
  
"I always thought you were strange." She replied, deciding for once she was going to initiate the baiting part of the game.  
  
"Charming!" Marcus exclaimed completely over dramatising his reaction. "I'll remember this when you forget to conjugate the verb to raise shields and start speaking about lingerie to the crew again."  
  
Susan glared again. This could turn into all out war- which due to her concentration on the conflicts outside of the ship, left her to say nothing in reply. She turned the seat back towards the front of the bridge.  
  
Marcus let it go for about ten seconds, then decided he'd try again. "Would you like me to sing again?"  
  
She sighed and looked to him. "Can't you be quiet for more than twenty seconds?"  
  
For a moment he considered, looking skyward and mulling it over. "Nope."  
  
She went quiet again. She was thinking about Sheridan, she blamed herself again. It was foolish, pointless- and reminded him too much of himself. "You know when you're worried you're no fun."  
  
Shaking her head, she turned the command chair back to face him."I told John not to trust Garibaldi, I knew something wasn't right there."  
  
"Did you tell him that? He asked.  
  
"Yeah. I even asked him to take you along."  
  
Marcus took a moment to consider this. Maybe if he put her mind to rest she'd go and get some sleep. "And as he didn't listen to the advice you gave him- it's naturally your fault?"  
  
She smiled a little at his trademark irony. He did have a point. "Something like that."  
  
"Look," He sighed leaning forward, "Susan. There's no point beating yourself up over something you had no control over and wasn't your fault. Things'll work out in the end. They always do."  
  
She noticed he was leaning rather close to her and had lowered his voice. If she didn't know him better she'd of expected him to put a hand on her knee. Just try it she thought. You'll be singing soprano for the rest of your life. However, her spoken word was quite different to her thoughts. "I'm a pessimist, I don't believe that for a minute."  
  
"I'm a cynic." He said leaning back in his chair, making her feel slightly bad about her last line of thought. "I just said that to make you feel better."  
  
Ivanova laughed a little again. He was only trying to help. "Thanks Marcus."  
  
"You're welcome." He responded in kind before backtracking. "D'you like Bob Dylan?"  
  
*********** ) ) ) ) ) ) )  
  
1300  
  
Stephen sat with his feet resting on the console in med-lab. He was worried about Susan. She'd taken the news pretty well... too well for his liking. When she'd returned to med-lab an hour ago after getting very little sleep, she'd asked about the extent of her injuries. He'd had no idea himself, and checked what the Minbari doctors had said in their notes on her.  
  
He took her to a side room to tell her. She listened and nodded. She even joked about it. "Well, that's one less thing to worry about a month." He saw that it hurt her. Deep down she was hurt by the news greatly. But she didn't cry. Didn't go into shock. Didn't even go into denial. She just took it silently. She had taken his advice and gone home and tried to sleep again.  
  
It wasn't necessarily in her plans, but she'd had the decision made for her, and not even unrequited love and an alien healing device could change that. It was unfair, but at least she was alive. As for Marcus...  
  
No change. The silence was un-nerving. Marcus had once told him that he had a theory, that if you prepare yourself for the worst then you can walk away unscathed. So much for that...If Marcus woke up he'd have hell of a problem walking away, let alone unscathed. Perhaps a life of tempting fate would have to result in a death he had to walk directly into. No, he wasn't dead yet. If Marcus was going to continue in a long line of stubbornness he'd make it.  
  
The thing that bothered Stephen the most though was that Marcus had left a note. It was a suicide note. He'd tried to kill himself. He was supposed to be quite close to Marcus, hell he was a Doctor, how could he have missed him having suicidal tendencies? He supposed Marcus was always self destructive. It was understandable, he'd lost everything in his entire life and had to start again. He'd never forgiven himself for what happened to his brother. If a human being was meant to be the sum of experience, then it was a wonder Marcus didn't try to do this more often. When he'd faced Neroon he was willing to die, but recently he hadn't taken as many risks, he'd been more careful with himself. Perhaps in Ivanova he'd found something worth living for.  
  
Franklin reached forward and sipped his stone cold coffee. It was sickeningly sweet and topped up with supposed milk. Ivanova would consider it blasphemy. He stared at the brown liquid in the cup, The milk had congealed slightly at the top in little white strokes.  
  
A voice standing in the doorway brought him out of his line of though.  
  
"Yes," He replied to his name being called, replacing his coffee on the edge of the console.  
  
"It's Ranger Cole doctor, the internal bleedings getting a lot worse." A large male tech informed him.  
  
Stephen stood immediately and made his way over to the isolab. Damn. "Is his cellular production any better?"  
  
"No doctor," The tech continued as they entered the iso-lab. Unsurprisingly, Marcus hadn't moved. "Haemorrhaging is visible under the skin."  
  
"Where?" Stephen asked glancing at the chart.  
  
"Upper left abdomen," The tech folded back Marcus' clothing to show the left side under his rib cage. Areas of the skin were turning a dark purple.  
  
Stephen looked and sighed. He had no choice.  
  
"Alright, prep him." Stephen rubbed his eyes tiredly. "While he's open we'll do a spleenectomy. If he's not bleeding from there now he probably will later."  
  
"Should I call Commander Ivanova?" The tech asked.  
  
Franklin thought for a moment. She'd just stand outside the iso-lab and get nervous. With any luck, he'd be done before she came back.  
  
"No," Stephen decided.  
  
************ ) ) ) ) ) ) ) ) )  
  
1900  
  
Susan re-entered med-lab to find Stephen wearing scrubs, and looking as if he had just collapsed into his chair. He seemed downfallen as he snatched the cap from his head. Something had happened.  
  
He looked up to see her then stood. "Susan," he began, there's been a problem."  
  
Ivanova stepped forward a little angry at Stephen for excluding her. "Why didn't you call me?"  
  
"I'm sorry Susan," Stephen began, "The internal bleeding just got too heavy. I had to open him then or-"  
  
"Did you stop it?" She asked, her heart becoming sick of this emotional crash landing.  
  
"I removed his spleen- that's where a good deal of the blood was coming from. It seems to have helped."  
  
"But?"  
  
Stephen gestured for her to sit down. She refused, aware that the gesture was meant to signal bad news.  
  
"Susan," he said as he touched her arm, "During surgery, he went into respiratory distress. That's quite possibly a sign that his body's shutting down."  
  
"Oh God Stephen." She whispered, sitting down of her own accord. She understood why people were always sat down before bad news now. The weight of the world fell upon the recipients of bad news.  
  
Stephen knelt in front of her, knowing the hardest part was yet to come.  
  
"I have to ask you, that if it comes to it- would you want extreme or evasive measures used?"  
  
Her eyes met Stephens, feeling the bitterness of loss tainting her again. "When did I get power of attorney?" she whispered resentfully.  
  
"I didn't think it was my place to make a soul decision," Franklin added. "What do you want to do?"  
  
Susan looked to the iso-lab, and to Marcus, trying to remember how he was. Smiling with delusions of grandeur, chuckling to himself at her blunders in the Minbari language, his patented sarcasm and deliberate offensiveness- if he wasn't any of these things anymore... she shook her head.  
  
"He wouldn't want it. We have to honour that."  
  
"Okay," Stephen nodded, somehow hoping her reply would be along this line, that she wouldn't cling to a lost cause.  
  
"Is this it Stephen?" She asked reluctantly.  
  
"Maybe. Unless he picks up during the night- we'll loose him."  
  
Susan put her head in her hands and cried, weary and in silence. Not for her- Marcus couldn't be lost for her. Why didn't he just come out and say he loved her? 


	4. Day 3

A little shorter- but i'm getting quicker-

Day 3  
  
0200  
  
If understanding is a three edged sword Delenn thought to herself, then I understand not which edge Marcus was acting from.  
  
She had heard the latest news, and had found herself keeping a vigil with a single candle. She thought of how bright the light Marcus had brought to cause had burned, how it had been seen when all other lights had gone out. But the sadness in his eyes, the pain of loss that flickered just beyond the sporadic and well (also often) spoken front.  
  
If she had done more for him..., she had asked him to come to the re-birth ceremony. But it seemed that the only constant he had come to rely on in his life was grief. She wondered if Marcus had always been this way, impulsive, self blaming, far too willing to sacrifice himself for a cause.  
  
She retired to her private chambers to reflect on recent events. She had meditated in the darkness, thinking of the problems behind her, and the trials ahead. The battle for earth, the problems Sheridan was now facing alone. The stars that ascended as others fell, and some burned out. If the endurance of some stars would be seen a thousand years from now, or would some fade into the background and into obscurity, forever swallowed up by the vastness of the universe.  
  
The flame of the candle raged in front of her, despite seeming in danger of drowning in its own wax. It's light bathed the room in a soft glow, touching and changing everything it met.  
  
Delenn prayed. She prayed for those that history did not remember. Those who died un-noticed in the universe, who died in the dark where their deeds would not be known in glory. For those who went to war and died needlessly. For those who loved without condition; be it a thousand or one person.  
  
Delenn made a covenant with the universe. That is Marcus lived, he would be reborn into new possibilities. That somehow he would be saved from his self-destructive cycle of guilt. She would force it upon him- even if he resented her for it. He must overcome his need to cling to what is unchangeable. She would not pray for him in this manner again, she would not see him do this, to himself or to others again.  
  
To tell the truth, Delenn was angry at herself. She had worried for Marcus, but not suspected this, even when he himself had told her in his own way what would happen if he could find an outlet. How could she of missed it, simply dismissing it as an idle comment in the face of overbearing grief?  
  
She had been addressing the grey council when Lennier had interrupted her with the news. Ivanova was dying. She had left immediately and spoken to the doctors, who gave a message of no hope. After that, Lennier had informed her of the secondary problem; Marcus. Marcus had not spoken to anyone since hearing the news himself. Lennier had attempted, but Marcus had refused to even look at him. As the Entil'zha of the rangers, a refusal to speak to her would be severely disrespectful.

  
  
Delenn found Marcus slumped in the corridor outside of Ivanovas room. From his demeanour, his world had avalanched on him, as the bridge of the white star had on Ivanova. Susan was going to die- Delenn had only heard the news a few moments ago herself. This brought great sadness to Delenn, but to Marcus- his heart was broken. It had been him who had carried her from the bridge of the white star, who had waited outside of the operating room for six hours- only to learn that she would die anyway.  
  
She stood over him, his head bowed and back to the wall. His knees a few inches from his forehead. Her appearance didn't register. He seemed almost catatonic. Delenn knelt beside him, and placed a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"Marcus, are you alright?"  
  
He shook his head slowly, his eyes fixed downward, the moving of his head almost a denial of what was happening. He was sick with grief, angry at the universe and himself.  
  
"I should have seen it coming Delenn." His eyes clouded with tears, and he closed them. "It's my fault."  
  
"No Marcus," She said. "The navigation was down. There was nothing you could have done." Her words meant very little. To Marcus, they were empty and seemed poor and inadequate as comfort at present. They did not cut through the numbness and disbelief.  
  
Marcus raised his head and looked at her. He had been crying for quite sometime by the state of his face. He felt as if he were in some terrible waking dream, where reality had twisted into nightmarish proportions.  
  
"Why is she dying and I'm unscathed?"  
  
Delenn had no good answer for that. What answer could she give that would bring any meaning?  
  
"It is how things are," She whispered, wishing for something of consequence to spring from her mind. "I don't know."  
  
He lowered his head into his hands again, and wept quietly. There was no comfort in the universe, no absolution for being alive. Desperation and self-loathing were upon him.  
  
"I wish I was dead."  
  
Delenn placed her arm around his shoulders as he cried, feeling the enormous sense of grief and loss overpowering Marcus. She sighed and shook her head, trying to help him see beyond the latest tragedy to befall him. "Don't say such things. I know the pain you are in..."  
  
He shook his head, crying even more. Only Stephen knew, or maybe Susan herself, only they really knew how he felt. He could never tell Susan now. He could never look her in the face and speak his mind. There were so many times he could of spoken of his feeling to her, all of them passed up, or handled indirectly. He couldn't tell her now she was dying. He could never tell her, and for that reason, he had to tell Delenn. He tried to put it into comprehendible words.  
  
"I- I have feelings for her."  
  
Delenn paused, taking a moment to interpret what he was saying. This was not only Ivanovas death, it was perhaps the final chance the universe had given him to find happiness, and in his mind- redemption. He no longer was able to live for himself, and perhaps not even for the Anla'shok. He had stood beside Ivanova in every battle. He lived only for her. "Oh Marcus," she breathed realising his implication. "I am so sorry." 

  
  
0800  
  
Stephen stepped through the door of the iso lab with two cups of coffee in hand. Susan was slumped backwards in the chair beside Marcus. She was asleep, finally. For that much Stephen was glad. She was putting herself through hell just to stay beside Marcus. Because she felt obligated to him. Marcus wouldn't have asked it of her- but she hadn't asked him to give up his life for her.  
  
It was always strange when he was treating a friend, even worse when their condition was as serious as this. Franklin had quite literally had to stitch Marcus back together, which was about as advanced in terms of medicine as amputating a broken leg. At least this way he could take as long healing as his body felt necessary, if his body was at all interested in recovering. He noticed Marcus was breathing a lot more easily, in-fact it looked like he was breathing almost independently. He placed down the two cups of coffee and reached for the scanner.  
  
He smiled at the readout and whispered in Marcus general direction. "Way to go." Stephen tapped Ivanova on the shoulder gently, but with a little urgency in his voice. "Susan."  
  
"Um." She groaned, opening her eyes at what she knew would be some ungodly hour. "What?" She demanded sleepily before realising where she was and sitting up. "Whow, how's he doing?"  
  
Stephen smiled, exhausted but given a slight kick to his adrenals in the last few moments. "He's breathing on his own."  
  
She looked skyward and sighed with relief. "Thank God." She whispered. Ivanova lent forward and put her head in her hands, rubbing the sleep from her eyes with her fingertips. With all the emotional instability she was going through lately, wearing mascara seemed to be a bad idea.  
  
"You look like hell." Stephen noted out loud, passing her a cup of freshly re-hydrated coffee.  
  
"Something to do with feeling like hell." Susan remarked, taking the coffee from him with a degree of gratefulness. "You don't look so great yourself." She retorted after a few moments. She sipped the coffee. It was terrible, it had all the charm of a drunken Pak'ma'ra, probably the taste of one as well- but that was something to do with eating carrion. Eventually, her spoken mind wondered back to Marcus. "Was there anyway we could have known?" She paused and explained further, "That he would of done something like this?"  
  
After pausing for a moment, Stephen shook his head. "I've thought the same thing. I don't think so."  
  
"How am I supposed to feel about this? Flattered? Horrified? Grateful? Angry?" She listed, looking for an appropriate adjective.  
  
"I don't know." Stephen began, contemplating what had gone on in Marcus somewhat strange brain. "I've no idea what he was thinking- he probably didn't know what he was thinking."  
  
"Do you think he couldn't live without me?" She asked objectively, deciding if that was a reasonable assumption or not. "Or am I flattering myself?"  
  
"I don't know." He considered. Susan was defiantly a priority in Marcus' mind. "He thought about you a lot."  
  
She considered this for a moment, that was pretty personal. Did Marcus just broadcast what he was thinking to the entire room most of the time? Knowing her luck, half the station probably knew how he felt about her. "He told you?" She asked eyeballing Stephen.  
  
"Well, kinda." Franklin replied, trying to make this as tactful as possible, and trying not to get Marcus into any further trouble. "He thought of you a lot, and he thought a lot of you. When we went to Mars... the best way to get him to shut up was to mention you."  
  
She laughed, thinking of the ultimate irony in Marcus shutting up. "Is it me, or does he always talk?" Susan asked, finding the acoustics of the room empty.  
  
"Always." Franklin confirmed.  
  
"I can't believe I'm saying this," She continued, hoping that someday she'd live to regret next words. "- but I'd love for him to talk right now." 


	5. Day 4

Day 4  
  
It was years into the future, how many she couldn't tell. Her hair was greying in subtle streaks, her face creasing in lines of age.  
  
Outside, the glow of the dawn was visible through the large window that looked out onto the crystal spires that dominated the landscape. As the wind blew through the crystal, Susan heard the distant humming, as if someone were running their finger along a wine glass. This must be Minbar.  
  
Ivanova rolled over on the four poster bed, and found she was laying close to someone, her face inches from theirs. They were also older, their face scarred with age and a thousand hardships.  
  
Marcus rested uneasily beside her. Every breath was a struggle for life, a struggle he was loosing. He was older than she knew him, but not an old man. He was perhaps sixty, his hair was also turning a dirty grey, but he was still rather a lean figure.  
  
"Susan," he breathlessly murmured, somewhat aware of his imminent demise, but fighting death on his own terms- keeping his wit about him.. "You're not- crying again are you?" he turned his head to look at her, and a wry smile spread across his lips. "I'm the one -dying here, don't know what -you're crying about."  
  
She swallowed and choked back her tears, managing to somehow laugh at the same time. She hated it when he was in-appropriately funny, especially now at the end. Weakly, his hand reached across and touched the tear that lay high up on her cheek. Marcus closed his eyes and groaned in pain and discomfort. Ivanova lifted her head from the pillow, pushing her greying hair back behind her ears. She leaned over him, placed her arm under his head, then raised his forehead to her lips.  
  
Susan pressed her forehead to his feeling his gasping breath in her face. "shhh."  
  
There was no comfort other than herself to offer him. He had gone beyond where most painkillers would have been effective, anything that could be offered to him would let him sleep until he was dead. He didn't want it that way- he wanted to be awake until the last moment his eyes would stay open, the only relief would come when he was dead.  
  
He lay in her arms, slipping away from conscious thought. His eyes blinking open and closed very slowly now. Every breath more useless than the last. She thought of all the recent nights, when she'd held him, almost screaming with agony, weeping with pain that could not be silenced. His eyes closed and saw no more. He would not die in battle gloriously, not alone or un- appreciated. He would just sleep in her arms.  
  
His chest rose and fell more slowly now, pulling in little air, her arms were almost numb from holding him. She prayed every breath would be the last.  
  
He exhaled a final time, then simply- stopped. Susan paused, waiting for him to breathe again. He didn't. She put her hand to his chest, and felt the last the very last movement of his heart.  
  
She raised her head, feeling the sunrise falling on her face. Through the tears, somehow she gathered a smile at one of life's little ironies. As a romantic, what better way to die was there than this?  
  
He was gone.  
  
Her warm tears flowed over a face that soon grew cold.  
  
1300  
  
"Damn it!" Susan gasped as she woke to find herself back in the 2260's. The dream was so real, she could feel the texture of Marcus stubble on her fingertips. Damn, not even in the future did he shave. She was shaking and could feel a layer of cold sweat on her back, that dream was far too close to reality for her liking.  
  
Quickly, she became aware of her link going off. Susan pawed around in the darkness, not thinking to turn the lights on. She brutally snatched it up and answered. "Ivanova, go."  
  
"We have captain Sheridan for you on channel four commander," Corwins voice informed her from CNC, unaware of how strange another human voice sounded on her ears. Her head was pounding, aching from temple to temple- it had done since she'd woken up initially.  
  
"Put it through to my quarters, thank you David." She breathed out, trying not to sound too upset over the link. The last thing she wanted was rumours flying around CNC about her. But then CNC was probably already full of rumours...  
  
She rose from the tangle of bedclothes, found her robe lying disguarded on the floor, picked it up and put it around her. She stumbled groggily out of the bedroom, and turned on the monitor to see the waiting face of John Sheridan.  
  
"Susan, Hi." He began, noting her drowsy appearance. She looked terrible, she looked like- for want of a better phrase- death warmed up. She was pale and her hair was dull and unhealthy. Her skin was creased with worry and plagued with small blemishes. She looked like crap. "Sorry to wake you, but I needed to call before we put our proposal forward."  
  
"No, it's alright." She shook her head, trying to shake of the need to sleep. "I was up all of last night."  
  
"How's Marcus?" He asked furrowing his brow slightly.  
  
She sighed, feeling sick with grogginess and shock from her dream. "Not good," Susan stated folding her arms. He expression worsened into one of unease, "We thought we we're gonna loose him yesterday- Stephen ordered me back here to get some sleep."  
  
"Damn," Sheridan stated, hoping for better news. It seemed she was going out of her head with worry over Marcus. Well at least for the moment he had cause to distract her from her worry. "Well for you at least I have some good news."  
  
Ivanova cocked her head and rubbed her neck. "What's that?" She asked, trying too hard to demonstrate a false level of interest.  
  
"I got you your promotion." He smiled warmly. Susan froze for a moment, it took a second before the news quite reached her.  
  
"Promotion? I'm a captain?"  
  
Sheridan laughed slightly, recalling the last promotion he gave her. She had the same beautiful look of disbelief on her face- it was nice to know it was still possible to phase her. "Congratulations Susan, you earned it."  
  
"Wow." She smiled, suddenly feeling much more awake. "Thank you John."  
  
"Ah, you're welcome," He replied dismissing her un-needed thanks with a sweeping hand gesture. "So what are you going to do? If you wanted a ship I could probably swing it for you."  
  
Ivanova thought for a moment, it was tempting. But she was needed here, having a C:O who knew nothing about the runnings of this station wouldn't be helpful with everything that was going on- and she certainly didn't want to go anywhere with Marcus in his current condition.  
  
"Well," she began, "Eventually yeah but- we don't know if or when he'll wake up. It wouldn't be fair if he did and I was gone."  
  
"Alright," Sheridan nodded. With her it was probably a matter of honour to stay around until the situation was resolved. "Take some time," He resumed. "Delenn sends her best wishes."  
  
"I'll see you soon John."  
  
"Bye," He murmured as the screen went blank, hoping only the best for her as he went to bluff with the president of earth.  
  
1805  
  
Med-lab was as she had left it, sterile, metallic. Stephen was nowhere to be seen, Marcus was still in the iso-lab. As she approached she saw he was bandaged tightly around the stomach where he'd been cut open. It was probably a precaution, his metabolism was moving very slowly, as Stephen had put it, he was being held together with sutures and good intentions.  
  
Susan had never noticed how thin he was, that she could see the skin pulled tightly against every rib. Maybe that was something to do with the healing device, taking the weight off his body to use as energy to bring her back. No, she didn't want to go onto this line of thought. Every time her brain went near it she only felt worse about what had happened.  
  
He'd looked strangely like he'd done in her dream, weak, vulnerable, dying. She reached forward and placed her hand over his beating heart, feeling his chest rise and fall beneath her hand. Every beat she felt, she expected to be the last.  
  
But he kept breathing. He didn't stop. It seemed as if his body had one intention- to keep his heart and lungs going and damn the rest. Finally, she moved her hand, satisfied he was going to keep breathing. Her fingers moved away and broke contact with his skin.  
  
She hated this, she wanted to walk away and forget about him. In one selfish moment she wanted to go home and sleep easily, to be able to stop turning over what he could possibly have been thinking. What was worse, even when she slept he was there, dying. Only in her dream it was worse, she had to hold him while he took his time, while he was in pain, she didn't want to have to do that. She hadn't done it for her father; she couldn't do it then, or even now. So why was she able to do it in the future?  
  
Finally, she sat down beside him and picked up his hand, and started to fall back into the routine of the last few days. Everyone else was out acquiring their happily ever afters, while she was stuck in Med-lab with a potential vegetable that she was coming to resent. Well she was Russian, she wouldn't get the happy ending. It was a fact of life she was accustomed to. That's why she was still here and not getting layed, because her sense of honour dictated that she stayed around until he died or woke up. Then if he woke up she'd kill him. Either way, it'd turn out to be a tragedy in the end.  
  
Ivanova looked back to Marcus for a moment. He looked so innocent. Well maybe not that, but she certainly chided herself for her previous line of thought. She was just angry at a lot of things, and was most likely mis- directing it towards him. Susan reached forward and touched his face with her index finger, if he woke up now he'd probably pass right out again. Nothing.  
  
She lifted his hand to her lips. He didn't move. She wished she'd given him a chance, would it have been so terrible? He at least loved her, she could of maybe met him halfway. But no. It was most likely too late. She'd rescind these thoughts if he woke up, but for a moment it was a possibility.  
  
"So much for things working out." She whispered to the breathing corpse, before leaning back in the chair and dozing off.  
  
22.34  
  
She was being shaken awake.  
  
"Susan! Susan wake up!" Stephen was yelling at her urgently. Her eyes opened before her brain was able to get up to speed. She lunged forward and almost fell out of the chair. Fortunately Stephen grabbed her before she fell on her face.  
  
"What??" She yelled, annoyed that she had been asleep so deeply. Had something happened? Stephen was really excited about something. Knowing her luck the Drazi had declared war on the Pak'Ma'Ra.  
  
"Good news!" He yelled shoving a report in her face. She blinked a couple of times, trying to focus her tired eyes on it. "His neural activity's picked up?"  
  
Her eyes moved to meet his, realising what he was implying. ""You mean he'll be okay?"  
  
"Yes! He could wake up anytime."  
  
Ivanova sighed with relief and smiled, then wiped her eyes. "Could you wake him now?"  
  
Franklin looked at her, puzzled, "Well technically, but I wouldn't recommend it. It's best to let him come round on his own."  
  
Susan sat again and put her hands to her temples, feeling her headache getting worse again. "Can I start calling him names now, as he can hear me?" 


	6. Day 5

Day 5  
  
It was pitch. Marcus could see nothing but void. He felt completely dis- embodied. He couldn't feel his legs, there was no floor so to speak of. The best word for this would be- abyss.  
  
How long had he been here? Where was here? Was he dead?  
  
Marcus tried to speak, but found no sound. He came very quickly to the conclusion that he was pretty damn scared. Perhaps being an Atheist wasn't such a good idea.

* * *

0528  
  
His hand had been withered. She hadn't remembered before, but it came to her from some subconscious line of thought. In her dream Marcus left hand was terribly scarred, and he had a finger missing. It was strange that she though of this now. The image had been ghastly, and admittedly now she shrunk away with revulsion at the very though of it, as it reached forward and touched the tears on her face. But not in the dream. What happened to him? Perhaps it had been an accident...why was she even thinking this line of thought? It was a dream. A random collection of thoughts that gathered together in her head and conveyed themselves through imagery. Nothing more. Perhaps. She had to get away from these thoughts, they were making her headache worse.  
  
How should she wear her hair this morning? Up? No, she'd broken her last hair tie playing cats cradle with it in Med lab. She made a note to herself to pick some up at the Zocalo later. She brushed the hair on the left side, finding it tangled and knotted. Great, now it was going to frizz up everywhere. The universe hated her. It was the only logical conclusion she could arrive at. Maybe she should cut it off and start again. No, short hair really didn't suit her- besides her neck would keep getting cold for the first month.  
  
Her vision suddenly blurred for a moment and Susan wobbled on her feet in front of the mirror. She caught hold of the chair and breathed deeply, what the hell was that? There was a buzzing noise, a low hum that lay on the edge of her awareness. It got louder, until she could hear individual parts of the cacophony. Individual voices, getting louder, yelling, screaming- then it suddenly stopped.  
  
What the hell was going on? Was she loosing her marbles? Or were those voices-  
  
The door rang, cutting her off in mid thought. Trying to dismiss what had happened, Ivanova went to answer it.  
  
"Yes?" She asked, rubbing her tired eyes as she reached the door. Who the hell would be calling by at this time of morning?  
  
"It's Zac Allen Ma'am." Came the voice over the intercom. It was about time he turned up. "Can I come in?"  
  
"Open." She commanded, wondering what Zac wanted. He hadn't bothered her thus far, maybe they had a major incident going on. That's right Susan. Look for the worst. Maybe he just wanted to say hi.  
  
"Commander-"Zac began as he stepped in the door- his mistake quickly coming to him. "Sorry, Captain." He corrected himself, keeping his friendly and naturally disarming manner. Zac was one of those people everyone liked. There was nothing to dislike about him, he wasn't rude (at least to her) or self righteous – like some other people of the sex she was familiar with, like a certain Ranger.  
  
"Don't worry, I'm not used to it yet." She dismissed his error, not really noticing until he had corrected himself. "Captain Ivanova", that would take some getting used to she had to admit. "Is there something I can do for you Zac?"  
  
"Not as such." He replied, pacing un-intrusively around her living space, looking around and particularly paying attention to anything written in Russian. "I was wondering if you were heading back to med-lab anytime soon?" He finally asked, trying not to be intrusive with his question also.  
  
"Just about to." Susan replied, sitting on the arm of the couch, resting her legs that were already tired from standing. She had to regain some sort of sleep pattern before she went insane from sleep deprivation.  
  
"How's he doing?" Zac asked politely, but getting straight to the subject. She liked that about Zac. He didn't talk too much or avoid subject matter either.  
  
"Better." She began, weakly smiling. "He's not awake yet but- Stephen says it wont be long."  
  
"Good, good." Zac nodded his head, genuinely glad to hear such news. Then, he paused. Formulating his next line of thought into spoken word. She was gonna hate this. "We kinda have a problem." He stated.  
  
Typical man. Beating around the bush before getting to the real problem.  
  
"As soon as the press got wind of you being alive they started hounding CNC with requests for interviews. We didn't pass it on, we figured you didn't need the hassle." Susan assumed the "We" was Zac, Corwin and Stephen. Well, she supposed she should appreciate their concern and consideration.  
  
Zac continued. "About three hours ago a dozen reporters came on board, I posted this corridor a no go zone- but they're lining the way to med-lab." He grimaced apologetically. He hated the news. The way it exploited peoples misery and interfered with personal lives, especially when it infringed on his life. "I figured I should ask you if you want them gone."  
  
Susan thought for a moment. This was not helping her headache, but the last thing she needed now was bad press. "No-"She finally replied. "Freedom of speech is one of the things we've been fighting for. They're free to ask questions, I just don't have to answer them."  
  
"Fair enough." Zac replied, glad he didn't have to get the riot squad out, but still unhappy with the idea of a mob of reporters waiting for his superior. "I better escort you though." He added, knowing how she would react to this.  
  
"I don't need an escort Zac." She remarked, without resentment. He was probably over-reacting. But he was security chief, it was better that he over-reacted than did nothing she supposed.  
  
"I know, I know." He insisted holding his hands up to suggest that he was only the messenger of this scheme. "But Mr Garibaldi called and kinda made me promise to keep an eye on you."  
  
She should of counted on Michael. She'd briefly had the events surrounding Sheridans' jailbreak and Garibaldis manipulation by Bester. Stephen believed it, and so did Zac. She supposed she should... but she'd been hateful towards him since the moment she heard of Sheridans capture. Starting to hate was easy. Learning to let go of it was difficult. She supposed this is where she had to begin to let it go.  
  
"Typical Garibaldi." She smiled, feeling the traits of her old friend returning though the sentiment.  
  
"Uh huh." Zac smiled thoughtfully, evidently happy that Garibaldi had been vindicated. This was Michaels way of working her trust back up- but Zac felt giving her a push in the right direction wouldn't hurt. "But I guess you're lucky to have so many people care about you."  
  
"Yeah, I guess. "She murmured, standing straight, and making her intension to leave.  
  
"C'mon," He nodded his head toward the door. "I've never been on the news before."

* * *

Then it all changed. He was lying on his back, sparks showered everywhere. A piece of the ceiling was falling toward him- he rolled over and out of the way. The bridge of the white star was in pieces.  
  
Susan.  
  
Where was Susan?  
  
Fuck.  
  
Dazed, Marcus pulled himself to his feet. She was buried under the debris somewhere. He yelled her name. A console behind him burned. Then he saw her, crushed under a piece of the fallen bridge.  
  
Fuck.  
  
He pulled the metal out of the way. She wasn't moving.  
  
God no. Not again.  
  
He tried to lift her, but her tall stature made it difficult. He tried again, staggering under her weight.  
  
Not again.

* * *

0542  
  
The noise was incredible. Susan kept in pace behind Zac, but repeatedly had flashbulbs going off and microphones being shoved in her face. Zac turned around, pushed the nearest microphone away from her and yelled. "Okay move! Coming through please!" The noise continued.  
  
"Captain Ivanova!"  
  
"Captain, how do you respond to the rumour you were dying?"  
  
"What do you think of Sheridans' appointment as president?"  
  
"Will you give a short statement?"  
  
This was horrible. She was disorientated by the sheer number of people yelling her name simultaneously. On second thought she was glad Zac was here. But she wished for Michael even more. She could of used his support in the last few days.  
  
"Back off! Excuse me please!" Zac yelled above the horrendous din.  
  
A microphone was again thrust into her face by a sleazy looking reporter. "Captain! What do you think of the rangers' involvement in the war?"  
  
"No comment." She mumbled, aware she was approaching the T.V cameras.  
  
"What about Earth destroyers fighting each other?"  
  
"Did Babylon 5 supply evidence with the implication that President Santiago was indeed assassinated?"  
  
She reached the end of the line of reporters, and found herself stood by an ISN crew, who put forward at least a reasonable question.  
  
"What do you intend to do next Captain?"  
  
Susan paused, about to answer. Zac lent forward and spoke to the entire hoard. "No more questions please!"  
  
"It's okay Zac." She said turning to them. They'd come a long way, for very little. She could at least wet their appetite for a story. "Look-"She began, facing away from the camera. "I need to decide where my heart belongs before the rest of me can follow."  
  
With that she turned on her heel and walked away, still hearing the reporters, crying out for attention like spoilt children.  
  
"Captain!"  
  
"Captain, a moment of your time."

* * *

He was back in the abyss. Except this time he was lying on a floor, cold and hard. He shivered and swallowed, finding himself caught in a limbo of self aware unconsciousness. A voice came to him from nearby. Someone called his name. He knew that voice. He hadn't heard that voice in a long time.  
  
"William," He breathed, recognising his younger brothers voice.  
  
Marcus didn't want to stay down. He rolled over and sat up, the whole of his surroundings was sheer darkness. And from that Darkness he saw William standing in front of him.  
  
"Hi Marcus," William smiled down at him.  
  
"What's going on?" Marcus asked, dis-orientated and dopey. This wasn't real. It couldn't be. He had at least that amount of logical reasoning left in his brain.  
  
"You're dreaming."  
  
Well that in itself made sense.  
  
"Why are you here?" Marcus asked, rubbing his eyes. His vision wasn't clearing.  
  
"Who can say?" Replied William as he knelt beside his older brother. He clapped his hand on Marcus shoulder. "You're gonna be alright Marcus." He whispered reassuringly, as if he was aware of something Marcus was not.  
  
"But I killed you," Marcus intoned.  
  
William shook his head and frowned, he spoke to Marcus severely. "No you didn't. You have to stop thinking like that."  
  
Marcus lay on the floor again, exhausted, not quite understanding what was going on. "I'm so tired," He mumbled more to himself than to William.  
  
He looked up at William one last time, who smiled again.  
  
"Wake up Marcus."

* * *

1454  
  
Susan dozed with her palm help to her temple, her hand wrapped firmly around Marcus'. She gripped his fingers like a lifeline to a drowning person. She just had to wait it out now, all it was now, was a matter of time. The last few days had taken their toll on her, and for now she was just awake enough to hear voices or feel movement.  
  
Sounds. Beeping this time. A monitor. His chest heaved, moving oxygen. His body was so heavy, too heavy to support. Pain. Dull aching everywhere. A splintering headache right behind his eyes. Nausea, sickness like he was going to expel his internal organs. His mouth was dry, his limbs unmovable. He was waking up. He had to move. Cold sweat dripped cautiously down his neck, and something was wrapped around his hand. His skin was crawling with unpleasant sensation. He twitched his hand to try to rid himself of it.  
  
Ivanova felt the skin of her hand brush against the movement of other skin. She was woken up with her fingers moving. She opened her eyes to see Marcus hand twitch slightly.  
  
He moved.  
  
"Marcus," She spoke, squeezing his hand, seizing at any sign of life. "STEPHEN!"  
  
Somebody next to him stirred, waking up quickly from sleep. A voice reached him, calling his name, squeezing his hand. His lungs felt congested, his chest ached. But these were all good signs. It let him know he was alive.  
  
Stephen ran through the door, alert to anything he may be asked for. The cry had been one of urgency. "What?"  
  
"He moved his hand." Susan reported, the words coming out so quickly they sounded as one.  
  
Franklin picked up a scanner and activated it. "Could be reflex," He commented, trying not to get her hopes up. The last thing she needed was to see the end, only to have it knocked down again. However, he smiled when he saw the reading the scanner gave. "His neural activity just jumped."  
  
Stephen reached into his pocket and got out the small torch he kept there in case he was ever needed on hand. The torch may have been a little archaic, but his father had always taught him that "Prior preparation prevents poor performance." He lifted Marcus left eyelid and shone the light into his eye. He saw the pupil contract, in front of him.  
  
"Marcus, can you hear me?"  
  
As Stephen went to check the other eye, Marcus showed a definite sign of life by turning his head in the other direction, and groaning. A voice they had been long awaiting spoke:  
  
"Stop shining that bloody light in my eyes!"  
  
The words were barely formed but audible. Marcus mouth was dry, he lips had been difficult to separate after his period of unconsciousness. Stephen couldn't help but smile at the characteristic choice of phrase. He looked to Susan grinning with relief, "I'd say patient is responsive."  
  
Marcus opened his eyes gradually, blinking several times, trying to clear his vision. The light in med-lab was painfully bright, and was obstructed by two figures leaning over him. He screwed up his eyes, not finding the strength in his arms to physically rub the sleep from them. Eventually, he saw both Stephen and Susan leaning over him. "I thought I was dead." He croaked, feeling his lips cracking with dehydration. The weight of his own body seemed to restrict his ability to breathe. He felt like a fleet of Pak'ma'ra were sitting on top of him. Marcus felt his body ache from his ribs through to his shoulders. Oh, he wished he were still unconscious.  
  
"No," Franklin said, avoiding trying to sound annoyed at him, seeing the discomfort he was facing, and how counter productive upsetting him would be. "Just damned lucky."  
  
Ivanova was unconcerned at keeping her cool any longer. She's been through hell for the past five days for him, for a completely reckless action on his part. Susan let go of his hand and let it lie limply on the bed. She was madder than hell at him with good reasoning, and she had every right to give him a piece of her mind. "What the hell did you think you were doing?"  
  
"Sorry," he murmured closing his eyes again, "I'll do better next time."  
  
"Next time!" She yelled incredulously, not amused at all at his gallant display of self contempt. "This isn't funny Marcus, you nearly died!"  
  
He was about to return with a witty retort when a stabbing pain hit Marcus in the chest, he cried out and involuntarily threw his head back. He panted out a reply in short breath, alarmed by the pain he was suddenly enduring. "You're right. This isn't funny."  
  
Ivanova felt a wave of concern come over her again. At least when he was unconscious he showed no signs of being in pain. Now he was writhing around, despite his extreme physical weakness. She gripped his hand tightly again, feeling his fingers tighten back around hers.  
  
His internal organs were on fire. The sheer amount of pain made him feel as if he'd pass out. His muscles tightened and he gasped, choking on agony.  
  
Stephen grabbed his arm and injected the morphine into his bloodstream. He continued to writhe around, endangering the area where he'd been cut open a few days ago. Those stitches were not gonna hold if he kept this up. "Easy! Easy!" Stephen warned as he tried to restrain Marcus' involuntary movements by grabbing his right arm and pushing his chest to the bed.  
  
"Hold him!" He instructed Ivanova, who pushed her palm to his forehead and held down his left arm. He cried out, as though he were being thrown around while paralysed, unable to even help himself. It was unbearable to watch, if Susan had not been ordered to hold him still she would have left the room. After a few moments, he stopped moving and lay still, limp and seeming for a moment unconscious again.  
  
"Better?" Franklin asked as he cautiously took his hands away, knowing that he was still conscious- he hadn't given near enough Morphine to knock him out that quickly.  
  
"Yeah," Marcus breathed out, exhausted already.  
  
"Are you gonna try and scare the crap out of us again?" Stephen asked in jestive tones. With Marcus around he had never been able to stay serious for long. "I mean due to you we already missed the wedding." he added, provoking Marcus curiosity.  
  
"Wedding-"Marcus considered, opening his eyes again. "Delenn and the Captain got married?"  
  
Susan looked to Stephen, deciding she was now going to confuse the ever playful intellect.  
  
"No, the President and the Delenn got married. You're addressing the captain."  
  
Marcus eyes shifted from one side to another, analysing the two pieces of information he had been relayed. He put them together, and considered.  
  
"Wait a minute. I think I've got a beat on it." He began, before confronting his assumption of the last few days events. "Sheridan's the president, and you're a Captain?" He paused again, trying to gauge if the last few days had been very eventful- or had he been down a very long time. "How long was I asleep?"  
  
Stephen smirked, glad to see some signs of coherent thought and lucidity. "Quite a while."  
  
"Then why am I so tired?" Marcus asked, his eyes lapsing back to closed.  
  
"Nothing to worry about." Franklin added, patting his arm and beginning to walk away. "Just rest, but not for five days this time. And be careful with those sutures."  
  
"Oh, sutures. How medieval." He remarked lethargically as Stephen moved out of earshot.  
  
Susan lingered at his side, as if unsure if she should stay with him or leave him now. Or maybe she should ask the thirty-five-thousand credit question. Why?  
  
He wasn't talking or making much movement, he seemed asleep again. She ran her thumb down his middle finger, to see if she got any response. "Marcus?"  
  
"Yeah?" he breathed, sounding more asleep than conscious.  
  
Ivanova reconsidered her query. Not now. Not with him like this. It wouldn't be fair. "Nothing. It can wait." She swallowed hard, hating that he done this to himself. She wasn't going to be driven to tears by this again. "But, if you ever do that again..."  
  
Marcus cut her off, avoiding a reprimand for the moment. "I get the message."  
  
She waited for a few moments, then leaned very close to his ear and spoke softly to him. "Thank you."  
  
He answered by clenching his hand tightly around hers again.

* * *

It was the end of the earth year 2261, and it was the dawn of a new age for all of us. It was the end of one chapter and the beginning of another. The next twenty years would see great changes, great joy, and great sorrow; the telepath war and the Drak war. The new alliance would waver and crack, but in the end it would hold. Because what is built endures, and what is loved endures. And Babylon 5, Babylon 5 endures. 


End file.
